


You/Him

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Jack Zimmermann Knew First, M/M, Not a reader insert, POV Jack Zimmermann, POV Second Person, which makes this canon divergent but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: You hate him. His accent, his baking, his cheerfulness around everyone other than you.Two years inside Jack Zimmermann's head.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 38
Kudos: 341





	You/Him

**Author's Note:**

> I clearly started this a _long_ time ago, because I was about 75% done when it was confirmed that Jack Knew Last and I sort of gave up on it.
> 
> But I was looking for something low-commitment to work on today, so I came back to it, even if it's been jossed.
> 
> Yes, it's second person and super pretentious. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

You hate him. You hate him before you even talk to him. He's so tiny, scrawny, there's no way he can play hockey at the level required for a Division I team. On top of that, he starts fainting. It's ridiculous; he doesn't belong there.

You hate him. His accent, his baking, his cheerfulness around everyone other than you. His big brown eyes that might be beautiful on anyone else. (Anyone female, because life is simpler that way.) You help him for the good of the team, not for him.

He works hard. You can see that, even if his hard work isn't having an effect as quickly as you'd like. And he is fast. Maybe putting him on the team wasn't a total mistake.

You hate him a little less, but only because he's not going to drag the team down as much as you'd feared.

You hate him. You know it isn't fair, that you're the one being an asshole here. But he embarrassed you in front of the one person you can't tolerate being embarrassed in front of, and you hate him.

He comes out. You hate him for it, even if you hate yourself a little for that. It's so easy for him, just being himself however and whenever and wherever he wants. His career isn't on the line. Ransom and Holster look for a date for him and you don't even want to go on a date with him but you hate him anyhow because it couldn't be you even if you wanted it to be.

He doesn't faint anymore. He scores, and they're not lucky shots. He has talent, and he works hard, and he's earned his spot on the team.

You… maybe don't mind him so much.

The coaches put him on your line.

You hate him. How could they possibly think that this hick from a state that simply does not produce hockey players (you looked it up, only three NHL players from Georgia ever, and not in over thirty years), who was a god damn figure skater until just a few years ago, who is only able to stay conscious on the ice because of _you_ , is anywhere near good enough to be on the starting line? To play directly alongside _you_? Fuck trying not to have an ego, you know full well you're the best player on the team, and you deserve to play with people just as good.

You hate to admit it, but he impresses you. You knew he was a competent player (when he doesn't psych himself out), you knew he was fast. You were completely unprepared for how good the two of you are together.

Okay, fine.

You fucking like him. You like his pies, and his personality, and the way he plays hockey. You like playing with him—a _lot_. You are capable of admitting when you're wrong.

His eyes still make you a little uncomfortable, because you like them more than you want to.

He goes flying, and you're terrified. Suddenly whether his eyes would be more convenient for you if they belonged to a girl seems like a stupid thing to worry about. He trusted you, and you let him down.

Somehow, he forgives you.

You like him. You're glad he'll be living across the hall. He likes you too, even though you don't deserve it. Maybe you can deserve it, though, if you work at it.

You think about him. At random, all summer, out of nowhere. You worry about him, his concussion. You text him to make sure he's feeling all right. In real moments of weakness, you think about his eyes. About how his arms look in a tank top. But mostly, you worry. You worry you won't be a good enough friend to him, to make up for everything. For hating him.

You want him. It hits you out of nowhere, and you're thankful there's no one around to see you stumble. His styled hair, his tanned skin, his bare arms, his… _Crisse_. Thank god it'll be too cold for shorts like that soon.

But this is something you can control, now that you know it's there. You're his friend, his captain. There's no room for _this_ in that relationship. You can pack it away, only bring it out for inspection late at night when you're alone in your room and you're wondering what he's doing, thirty feet away from you.

You like him. You refocus on earning the friendship he gives so freely. Rearrange practices so he can take the class he wanted (so you can take it with him… _no, shh_ ), start up checking practice again so he won't lose his scholarship (so you won't lose him… _no, shh_ ), go with him to get coffee whenever he wants and walk with him and study with him so he… so you… no… _shit_.

You _like_ him.

When you finally admit it to yourself, it feels like this inevitable thing, the tide, something that's been creeping up on you since the day you met him. Which isn't really true; you couldn't stand him at first, and you were so awful to him. But maybe it is true, sort of, because he's always been him, and look at him. How could you possibly spend so much time with him and not wind up only wanting more? How does anyone resist that sunlight?

It doesn't mean you can have him. You think he might feel the same, but it's not just broken hearts at stake here. The team, your career—so many things could be destroyed if it didn't go well. So you watch him take his date to Winter Screw, and you take Camilla because going with her was fine last year. And she's pretty and maybe if you hang out with her more you can ignore it.

You go to the party, because he's there. You almost convince yourself. Neither of you is drunk, not really, and all night you've been standing too close and touching too much. Maybe you could kiss him, upstairs where no one would see. If not tonight, maybe after winter break. It's worth considering. It's a nice fantasy for one night, at least.

Until _he_ shows up and reminds you why this is all a mistake.

And, god, he heard. He _heard_ all of that, and now he knows how weak you are. How worthless. He'll hate you now. He should have hated you all this time, the way you've treated him, and now he'll realize it.

You avoid him. It's only another day or so until you fly out for break, so it's not as hard as it could be, even living right across the hall. You're kind of avoiding everyone, anyhow.

You stare at the cookies, nestled under a pair of jeans in your suitcase. He doesn't hate you. He cares about you. You wish you could go across the hall and thank him, and suddenly it blindsides you, how much you miss him after less than a day.

You lo— _no_. You can't let yourself get carried away when you'll never be able to do anything about it.

You call him and then try to come up with an excuse after the fact. You text him about the most inane things possible. You call him when a text would do. You are acting like a twelve-year-old and you really need to get your shit together. You're lucky you'll both be back at school in a few more days.

Your last spring goes by so quickly.

You take another class with him, but so does everyone else, so you're not being too obvious. You take photos of him, but you take photos of everything, so you're not being too obvious. You flirt with him, but he never seems to realize that's what you're doing, so apparently you're not being too obvious.

He looks at you when he thinks you can't see. It breaks your heart to let him go on thinking you don't feel the same, but at least it's only _your_ heart being broken this way.

You let him hold you after your final loss. You buy him an oven. You wrap your jacket around his shoulders. You're being too obvious, and you know it, but you don't know how not to be. You've never figured out how to dial down anything. Most of the world thinks it's only hockey, everyone but your closest friends, but it's everything. There is _so_ _much_ all around you, always, and all you can do is react to everything, always, and even if sometimes those reactions don't look like they would for other people, you've never figured out how to keep them in. The one time you tried the hardest, it didn't go well.

So you love him, and it spills out everywhere. You can't have him, but you can take every opportunity you see to make him happy.

You try to say goodbye, and you're no good at it. You have to let go of him and watch him walk away. It hurts, that he thinks he won't see you again. You won't let that happen.

It takes so little, in the end. If you'd ever said anything about him to anyone else, maybe it would've happened a lot sooner. Because all it really takes is one person telling you that maybe you can have what you want, that you'll never know if you don't try, and suddenly something's knocked loose inside of you. You've been telling yourself one thing for so long, and no one's ever made you question it. The moment you do, you realize it's a cage you built for yourself.

You love him. You love him and he's yours.


End file.
